


Haze

by hiddenlongings



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't know why Finch is trying so hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haze

John had always known that his rescue from the depths of a liquor bottle would come at a price.  Finch had desperately wanted his services and had gone to extreme lengths to secure them.  Now that he had them John had felt a dull hope that that was the beginning and end of what would be required of him.

 

The first cupcake had been left on the table that Reese preferred to clean his equipment on.  It had been thoughtfully placed on a paper plate and covered with a napkin to keep the dust and gunpowder off of its fluffy frosting.

 

He didn’t really think much of it considering the state of one of his two sets of suits and shoes that were currently growing mold in the incinerator of his apartment building after their thorough dunking in New York’s sewage system after a steady flood of rain had filled it to the brim with water murky enough to hide those fabled alligators and rancid with feces and rotting meat. 

 

Finch had been both apologetic and insistent that he needed to slog through the muck in order to keep a close enough watch on their latest number.  Who had apparently ditched his burner phone in the nearest sewer.  

 

He deserved a cupcake damnit.  

 

The gooey pink lemonade cupcake that followed it’s vanilla brethren a couple of days later was more suspicious.  He still ate it because well, pink lemonade, but still very suspicious.

 

The cupcakes started to come with alarming frequency, once or twice a week, and John ate them all.  

 

They left him sick to his stomach.

* * *

 Kara’s smile had been a nasty twist in the corner of her mouth when she had first laid eyes on John.  He could feel his own smile fade into something professional and false.  

“God, you’re attractive.”

 

“Thanks?”

 

“No no.” Kara purred meanly. “Thank you.  This makes everything so much easier.”

 

His first few assignments with the CIA had been outside of his comfort zone but once they had him firmly hooked and unable to back away from their long term undercover assignment Kara revealed her master plan.

 

He had balked.  Of course he did.  He argued and fought against the metaphorical harness they had strapped to every one of his limbs.  Snow had seemed vaguely uncomfortable but he never spoke up and he backed up all of Kara’s arguments with clear warnings about what would happen to him if he tried to get out of their assignment.  

 

The first time had been a complete disaster.  Oh he seduced his target easily enough and  been lead none to gently to the high end hotel room that their mark was staying in.

 

The man hadn’t been gentle and John had bled for days.  He had felt something inside of himself blacken and die as he let the older man rape him.  

When Kara saw the way he limped and hid his winces the next day her smile had widened even further.

 

John had to repress a scream of protest when she pointed out his next target a couple of weeks later.

* * *

 John had thought that all of his vital organs had long been blackened and scorched.  He had felt a vague appreciation for the way his heart never skipped a beat.  Sometimes he thought that it had ceased to work, leaving his blood sluggish and cold slowly congealing in his veins.

He had stopped protesting whenever Kara pointed out his next mark.  It didn’t matter no one was listening to his protests anyway.  If he tried to balk they pulled up the paperwork that he had signed, docked his pay and sent him on his merry way to the next honey trap.  

 

John forced himself to relax into the man’s clammy touch, he knew his eyes were glazed and blank.  Hopefully the gun runner would take it for desire.  Kara had thrown his body at any possible mark that might be interested in him.  He had a vague feeling that she had started to seek out these types of marks almost immediately after his arrival.  Snow might not protest as Kara laid out her latest plan and John’s face lost what little animation he was able to fabricate but John thought he tacitly approved of his thorough breaking in.  He never pulled them.  Never murmured a protest.

 

A slimy tongue brushing his jawline brought John back to his current situation.  The thick fingers dug painfully into his hips and John let his eyes go hazy as he leaned back into the bulk and forced himself to go boneless in the strangers arms.

 

He felt the penetration as though it came from farther away than the moon as though his body was some distant circling entity that housed his brain but had no immediate connection to it.  John concentrated for a brief moment and allowed himself to feel the slippery slide of the man’s latex covered prick before he disappeared back into his own head.

 

At least the man, Charles?, was good enough to follow John’s pleaded requests.  John felt a vague sense of relief that the man had been willing to use both lubricant and a condom on him.  Two out of three wasn’t bad.

 

Mitch? hadn’t bothered to stretch him more than was necessary to shove a small amount of lube up his ass before he had shoved in with vigor.  John let the repeated impacts of the man’s thrusts push his body across the bed.  Occasionally giving the man, Paul?, a moan of encouragement.

 

Half an hour later John had managed to peel himself away from the man’s unconscious sticky embrace and he started towards the bathroom quickly grabbing his clothes and pocketing the leather billfold on the nightstand before he switched on the lights and shut the door.

 

He flipped open the wallet and shuffled through it for the code that he had been sent in to retrieve.  He gave a passing glance to the driver’s license.  David, apparently. 

 

Ah well not like it mattered.

 

He wet down one of the small towels that the hotel had provided for the room and he began to wipe himself down quickly.  He didn’t want to throw his suit on and have any fluids seep into view.  The towel rasped harshly against his ass but he didn’t even bother to gasp.  The rag came away crusty with drying blood and lubricant.  John absently pocketed the once white fabric.  No sense in leaving his dna for the world to find unless he had to.  

 

He’d take the wallet in it’s entirety and not just the slip of paper he needed.  Let the man think he was a common thief rather than a governmentally paid whore. 

When John slinked out of the room fifteen minutes later he had wrapped the used condom in the rag and thrown the miniature liquor bottles into his briefcase.  If he drank them all when he got back to the safe house John thought he might be able to sleep without nightmares.

* * *

 When John came into the library and saw another shrouded baked good on his table he couldn’t hold back a small sigh of irritation.  Honestly Finch had most definitely read his file, he had to know that he wouldn’t have to bribe John with pastries or false kindness.  All he had to do was show the slightest hint that he wanted Reese and John had few illusions about how quickly he would be on his knees in front of the smaller man.

Finch might have pulled John away from the hazy cast that alcohol had given him but he could feel it’s pull tighten and strangle as the man continued to ply him with sweets and money.

 

John wanted a drink more than anything else in the world but he couldn’t afford to let his mind slip away.  The numbers were their first priority and they had to be constantly on the alert in case the Machine popped up with another one.  John had no intentions of being fired or terminated because he couldn’t do his job.  

 

But Finch, Finch didn’t do anything.  He watched John closely but without intent.  Finch offered stiff pats to shoulders and forearms when he thought them warranted. He rarely did.  All he did was buy him cupcakes. And then one day instead of his usual sweet John strolled into the room and saw a small key sitting on his table.  A key that apparently went to a sweet little motorcycle that purred and roared when he turned it on and revved the engine.

 

Finch’s smile was pleased when he saw the mess John’s perfectly styled hair had become after he had flung himself around the block several times with his helmet strapped on tight.  But he made no sly innuendo, cracked no jokes.  He was just, Finch.  

 

Not that Finch was ever  just  anything but John could feel the crackling tension in his belly grow and tighten as time passed.

Finally the tension snapped like a rubber band, and John gritted his teeth, bit back nausea, and gave Finch a gentle kiss after he had handed the man his morning tea.

* * *

 When he had to shoot Kara less than a month after the gun runner operation John had felt something loosen in his chest.

That crack burst wide open when he found out that Jessica was dead and he tried his best to drown out the shattering mess of uprising feelings in all the alcohol that he could lay his hands on.  

 

He’d lost his mind when the young punks had tried to take the bottle.  It had taken him several seconds before the haze misted away from his brain and he realized what was going on.  By the time the gray was gone all of the men were prone on the floor and a steadily growing pack of nervous looking police officers was watching him from a distance as he began to slug back a shot’s worth of liquor with every gulp.

* * *

 If ever a group of sorrier looking wannabe gangsters were dragged first to the hospital and then to the police station, Carter had yet to see it.  Her lips quirked and an eyebrow cocked as she watched the video of the gray haired man.  He had apparently thrashed the lot of them while filled with enough alcohol to put him three times over the legal limit.  Carter didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified as she strolled into the small interrogation room  that they had set aside for their ‘victim’. 

“You know you could have made this a lot easier on me and let them land a few more punches.”

 

The man, ragged and dirty but filled with some sort of quiet intensity, made no response.  He just took another deep gulp of his water as though he wished it were something stronger.

 

“You know you never gave us a name?”

 

“It’s funny.” The man finally replied. “Seems like the only time anyone needs a name anymore is when they’re in trouble.”

 

Carter kept wheedling and questioning as she managed to get a hold of the man’s nearly empty water cup before she backed out of the room.  Those blue eyes, rheumy and red, didn’t miss a trick and she had no doubt that the strange man knew exactly what she had been after. 

 

The fingerprints were quickly run through the system and nearly two dozen hits came up for them.

 

The CSI whistled low as he paged through the sheet.

 

“Who did you find Carter? The angel of death?”

 

“Wait a second. Pause that.”  Carter leaned forward sharply as something caught her eye.  A pattern of anomalies that she really didn’t like the look of.

Alongside a variety of homicide and theft there were several different crimes that made her eyes widen and her hand cover her mouth.

 

The evidence that had apparently been logged in to these cases had nearly always included some sort of blood on the sheets and further evidence of very rough sex.  

 

“What do you see?”

 

“It looks like our mystery man used his body to get what he needed.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“That would probably explain the overreaction when those punks tried to take his liquor.”

 

“What some kind of ptsd from rape?”

 

Carter grunted but didn’t answer as she spun on her heel to try and go get more answers from her mystery man.

 

A shame his lawyer had apparently already pulled him before she could redirect her questioning.

He might have done evil things, but Carter would bet her badge that worse had been done to her mystery man.

* * *

 Finch pulled away from the tentative press of lips after a shocked moment.  His blue eyes were magnified and wide behind his thick glasses and John let himself drop to his knees without hesitation.  

Finch was probably the type that didn’t enjoy kissing.  He’d had a couple of those.  But when he reached for Finch’s pants slender fingers intercepted him and he was gently pushed back on his heels so that his face was well away from the man’s well dressed crotch.

 

“I’m afraid Mr. Reese that you have misinterpreted my intentions.”

 

John cocked his head a little and let himself relax into a hazy loose smile that apparently looked dreamy and replete if Kara’s words were anything to go by.

 

“No blowjob?  What would you like?”

 

Finch raised an eyebrow sharply before he straightened his sleeves with a fiddly snap of his fingers.  

 

“I would like for you to go home Mr. Reese.”

 

“What? Why?”  John felt his face furrow in confusion before he smoothed it out and gently nuzzled one of Finch’s knee’s.  “Don’t you want me?”

 

“I think.” Finch’s voice was brittle. “That you might have that backwards.”

 

John raised an eyebrow.

 

“Of course I want you.”

 

“Get out Mr. Reese.”

 

Finch lunged to his feet so quickly that John couldn’t restrain himself from crabbing backwards on his arms and legs to get away from the smaller man.

 

“Go home and we will pretend that none of this foolishness ever happened.”

 

John fled from this thunderous pronouncement before his consciousness had fully interpreted the words.

* * *

John let his body writhe on a long sinuous twist that pulled the muscles in his belly taught and bowed his spine.  His mind fluttered fretfully for an uncomfortable second as he performed the practiced seduction.  

Finch was nothing like some of the slavering monsters that his handlers had given him to before.  The best he could have expected from them was some inadequate lube to barely slick the way.

 

Harold had three slender fingers knuckle deep in him and they were twisting and dripping and wonderful.  Soaked with what John was sure was very expensive lube that left him tingling and relaxed.  When Harold’s fingers finally slipped free one perfectly manicured fingernail caught enticingly on his rim. 

 

John released a shaky sigh and widened his legs in an unconscious plea for more.

 

He was rewarded with a cruel slap to his vulnerable genitals as Harold pulled himself stiffly to his feet beside the bed.  He leaned over John his face darkening and shifting until John’s arms  wrapped around his torso to ward off a sudden chill and his legs closed shut with an audible snap as the sensitive skin began to burn a painful red.  

 

“I.” Snarled Finch with an irritated sneer. “Do not bed whores.  Mr. Reese. Pack your bags.”

 

John flinched backwards and the world shifted and churned as John fell out of his bed and onto the hardwood floor with a dull thump and a strangled gasp as he awoke.

John pulled his quilt down so that it wrapped around his shoulders as he leaned against the side of the bed.  His elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands.

 

He was hard.

* * *

 

 


End file.
